Divine Comedy, Cary's Translation, Paradise

By Dante Alighieri

Inferno, Italian for "Hell") is the first part of Italian writer Dante Alighieri's 14th-century epic poem Divine Comedy. It is followed by Purgatorio and Paradiso. The Inferno tells the journey of Dante through Hell, guided by the ancient Roman poet Virgil. In the poem, Hell is depicted as nine concentric circles of torment located within the Earth; it is the "realm ... of those who have rejected spiritual values by yielding to bestial appetites or violence, or by perverting their human intellect to fraud or malice against their fellowmen". As an allegory, the Divine Comedy represents the journey of the soul toward God, with the Inferno describing the recognition and rejection of sin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iOnlineShopping.com
• Release date: Mar 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9788832540949

Dante Alighieri

Dante was a major Italian poet of the Middle Ages. His Divine Comedy is widely considered the greatest work of Italian literature.

Book preview

Project Gutenberg's The Divine Comedy of Dante: Paradise, by Dante Alighieri

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: The Divine Comedy of Dante: Paradise

Author: Dante Alighieri

Release Date: August 2, 2004 [EBook #1007] [Date last updated: November 21. 2005]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARADISE ***

Produced by Judith Smith and Natalie Salter

THE VISION

OF

HELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE

BY

DANTE ALIGHIERI

PARADISE

Complete

TRANSLATED BY

THE REV. H. F. CARY, M.A.

PARADISE

Canto 1 - 33

CANTO I

His glory, by whose might all things are mov'd,

Pierces the universe, and in one part

Sheds more resplendence, elsewhere less. In heav'n,

That largeliest of his light partakes, was I,

Witness of things, which to relate again

Surpasseth power of him who comes from thence;

For that, so near approaching its desire

Our intellect is to such depth absorb'd,

That memory cannot follow. Nathless all,

That in my thoughts I of that sacred realm

Could store, shall now be matter of my song.

Benign Apollo! this last labour aid,

And make me such a vessel of thy worth,

As thy own laurel claims of me belov'd.

Thus far hath one of steep Parnassus' brows

Suffic'd me; henceforth there is need of both

For my remaining enterprise Do thou

Enter into my bosom, and there breathe

So, as when Marsyas by thy hand was dragg'd

Forth from his limbs unsheath'd. O power divine!

If thou to me of shine impart so much,

That of that happy realm the shadow'd form

Trac'd in my thoughts I may set forth to view,

Thou shalt behold me of thy favour'd tree

Come to the foot, and crown myself with leaves;

For to that honour thou, and my high theme

Will fit me. If but seldom, mighty Sire!

To grace his triumph gathers thence a wreath

Caesar or bard (more shame for human wills

Deprav'd) joy to the Delphic god must spring

From the Pierian foliage, when one breast

Is with such thirst inspir'd. From a small spark

Great flame hath risen: after me perchance

Others with better voice may pray, and gain

From the Cirrhaean city answer kind.

Through diver passages, the world's bright lamp

Rises to mortals, but through that which joins

Four circles with the threefold cross, in best

Course, and in happiest constellation set

He comes, and to the worldly wax best gives

Its temper and impression. Morning there,

Here eve was by almost such passage made;

And whiteness had o'erspread that hemisphere,

Blackness the other part; when to the left

I saw Beatrice turn'd, and on the sun

Gazing, as never eagle fix'd his ken.

As from the first a second beam is wont

To issue, and reflected upwards rise,

E'en as a pilgrim bent on his return,

So of her act, that through the eyesight pass'd

Into my fancy, mine was form'd; and straight,

Beyond our mortal wont, I fix'd mine eyes

Upon the sun. Much is allowed us there,

That here exceeds our pow'r; thanks to the place

Made for the dwelling of the human kind

I suffer'd it not long, and yet so long

That I beheld it bick'ring sparks around,

As iron that comes boiling from the fire.

And suddenly upon the day appear'd

A day new-ris'n, as he, who hath the power,

Had with another sun bedeck'd the sky.

Her eyes fast fix'd on the eternal wheels,

Beatrice stood unmov'd; and I with ken

Fix'd upon her, from upward gaze remov'd

At her aspect, such inwardly became

As Glaucus, when he tasted of the herb,

That made him peer among the ocean gods;

Words may not tell of that transhuman change:

And therefore let the example serve, though weak,

For those whom grace hath better proof in store

If I were only what thou didst create,

Then newly, Love! by whom the heav'n is rul'd,

Thou know'st, who by thy light didst bear me up.

Whenas the wheel which thou dost ever guide,

Desired Spirit! with its harmony

Temper'd of thee and measur'd, charm'd mine ear,

Then seem'd to me so much of heav'n to blaze

With the sun's flame, that rain or flood ne'er made

A lake so broad. The newness of the sound,

And that great light, inflam'd me with desire,

Keener than e'er was felt, to know their cause.

Whence she who saw me, clearly as myself,

To calm my troubled mind, before I ask'd,

Open'd her lips, and gracious thus began:

"With false imagination thou thyself

Mak'st dull, so that thou seest not the thing,

Which thou hadst seen, had that been shaken off.

Thou art not on the earth as thou believ'st;

For light'ning scap'd from its own proper place

Ne'er ran, as thou hast hither now return'd."

Although divested of my first-rais'd doubt,

By those brief words, accompanied with smiles,

Yet in new doubt was I entangled more,

And said: "Already satisfied, I rest

From admiration deep, but now admire

How I above those lighter bodies rise."

Whence, after utt'rance of a piteous sigh,

She tow'rds me bent her eyes, with such a look,

As on her frenzied child a mother casts;

Then thus began: "Among themselves all things

Have order; and from hence the form, which makes

The universe resemble God. In this

The higher creatures see the printed steps

Of that eternal worth, which is the end

Whither the line is drawn. All natures lean,

In this their order, diversely, some more,

Some less approaching to their primal source.

Thus they to different havens are mov'd on

Through the vast sea of being, and each one

With instinct giv'n, that bears it in its course;

This to the lunar sphere directs the fire,

This prompts the hearts of mortal animals,

This the brute earth together knits, and binds.

Nor only creatures, void of intellect,

Are aim'd at by this bow; but even those,

That have intelligence and love, are pierc'd.

That Providence, who so well orders all,

With her own light makes ever calm the heaven,

In which the substance, that hath greatest speed,

Is turn'd: and thither now, as to our seat

Predestin'd, we are carried by the force

Of that strong cord, that never looses dart,

But at fair aim and glad. Yet is it true,

That as ofttimes but ill accords the form

To the design of art, through sluggishness

Of unreplying matter, so this course

Is sometimes quitted by the creature, who

Hath power, directed thus, to bend elsewhere;

As from a cloud the fire is seen to fall,

From its original impulse warp'd, to earth,

By vicious fondness. Thou no more admire

Thy soaring, (if I rightly deem,) than lapse

Of torrent downwards from a mountain's height.

There would in thee for wonder be more cause,

If, free of hind'rance, thou hadst fix'd thyself

Below, like fire unmoving on the earth."

So said, she turn'd toward the heav'n her face.

CANTO II

All ye, who in small bark have following sail'd,

Eager to listen, on the advent'rous track

Of my proud keel, that singing cuts its way,

Backward return with speed, and your own shores

Revisit, nor put out to open sea,

Where losing me, perchance ye may remain

Bewilder'd in deep maze. The way I pass

Ne'er yet was run: Minerva breathes the gale,

Apollo guides me, and another Nine

To my rapt sight the arctic beams reveal.

Ye other few, who have outstretch'd the neck.

Timely for food of angels, on which here

They live, yet never know satiety,

Through the deep brine ye fearless may put out

Your vessel, marking, well the furrow broad

Before you in the wave, that on both sides

Equal returns. Those, glorious, who pass'd o'er

To Colchos, wonder'd not as ye will do,

When they saw Jason following the plough.

The increate perpetual thirst, that draws

Toward the realm of God's own form, bore us

Swift almost as the heaven ye behold.

Beatrice upward gaz'd, and I on her,

And in such space as on the notch a dart

Is plac'd, then loosen'd flies, I saw myself

Arriv'd, where wond'rous thing engag'd my sight.

Whence she, to whom no work of mine was hid,

Turning to me, with aspect glad as fair,

Bespake me: "Gratefully direct thy mind

To God, through whom to this first star we come."

Me seem'd as if a cloud had cover'd us,

Translucent, solid, firm, and polish'd bright,

Like adamant, which the sun's beam had smit

Within itself the ever-during pearl

Receiv'd us, as the wave a ray of light

Receives, and rests unbroken. If I then

Was of corporeal frame, and it transcend

Our weaker thought, how one dimension thus

Another could endure, which needs must be

If body enter body, how much more

Must the desire inflame us to behold

That essence, which discovers by what means

God and our nature join'd! There will be seen

That which we hold through faith, not shown by proof,

But in itself intelligibly plain,

E'en as the truth that man at first believes.

I answered: "Lady! I with thoughts devout,

Such as I best can frame, give thanks to Him,

Who hath remov'd me from the mortal world.

But tell, I pray thee, whence the gloomy spots

Upon this body, which below on earth

Give rise to talk of Cain in fabling quaint?"

She somewhat smil'd, then spake: "If mortals err

In their opinion, when the key of sense

Unlocks not, surely wonder's weapon keen

Ought not to pierce thee; since thou find'st, the wings

Of reason to pursue the senses' flight

Are short. But what thy own thought is, declare."

Then I: "What various here above appears,

Is caus'd, I deem, by bodies dense or rare."

She then resum'd: "Thou certainly wilt see

In falsehood thy belief o'erwhelm'd, if well

Thou listen to the arguments, which I

Shall bring to face it. The eighth sphere displays

Numberless lights, the which in kind and size

May be remark'd of different aspects;

If rare or dense of that were cause alone,

One single virtue then would be in all,

Alike distributed, or more, or less.

Different virtues needs must be the fruits

Of formal principles, and these, save one,

Will by thy reasoning be destroy'd. Beside,

If rarity were of that dusk the cause,

Which thou inquirest, either in some part

That planet must throughout be void, nor fed

With its own matter; or, as bodies share

Their fat and leanness, in like manner this

Must in its volume change the leaves. The first,

If it were true, had through the sun's eclipse

Been manifested, by transparency

Of light, as through aught rare beside effus'd.

But this is not. Therefore remains to see

The other cause: and if the other fall,

Erroneous so must prove what seem'd to thee.

If not from side to side this rarity

Pass through, there needs must be a limit, whence

Its contrary no further lets it pass.

And hence the beam, that from without proceeds,

Must be pour'd back, as colour comes, through glass

Reflected, which behind it lead conceals.

Now wilt thou say, that there of murkier hue

Than in the other part the ray is shown,

By being thence refracted farther back.

From this perplexity will free thee